Leni was having quite a bit of fun. All those drinks she had “borrowed” from her sister Lori had begun to make her feel funny. I mean, they did taste rather bizarre as well. But, she ended up feeling rather peculiar. She felt like that she could lift an entire car, and sure as hell drive one. She had left the house about an hour ago, and had gotten into Vanzilla, shuffling across the driveway in her pajamas. The keys were still in the ignition. Dad had most likely just been forgetful, a fact that he would surely regret in the morning. Leni hoisted her confused body into the car, and started it up, just like how Lincoln had taught her.
She was hungry. She wanted some nachos. Like, really really wanted some nachos. With cheese and chilies. Yummy. Off to flips it was. She swerved about the street, even hitting somebodies cat. Usually, Leni would have stopped the car, checked on the animal, and bawled her eyes out for hours. But this was now, and Leni wanted those darn Nachos, so that pussy got crushed. She braked hard into Flips,  and got out of the car, entering the tiny building.
“Evening, Loud.” Flip said, looking up from his paper. “What can I getcha.” Leni grunted, and went to the back of the store, grabbing a jar of chillis, a bucket, two bags of nachos, and a large bag of mozzarella cheese. She then began to mix the chips, chillis, and cheese together, and put the bucket into Flips microwave. “Hey, you can't use that for-” Flip began, before Leni looked at him with her bloodshot eyes. Flip had heard about the Zombie apocalypse. He wasn't going to lose his brains over something like this, not literally, and not figuratively. Leni grabbed the bucket of slightly mushy nachos, and after howling in pain, grabbed an oven mit, and a baseball bat as well. She grunted as she left, looking at Flip, who hid behind his desk in pure terror.
Leni climbed back into her van, strapping the bucket into the front passenger seat. She grabbed a handful of nachos, and remembered that she had seen those drinks she had taken from Lori back at Flips. She got out of her Car, took the bat with her, dragging it with her across the asphalt, and reentered the establishment, and using the bat, carried three six-packs of Freiberger, and with her other hand, two bottles of Glenmorangie, back to the car.
She chugged a Freiberger, wolfed down about a half of a cup of nachos, and slammed her foot into the gas, driving off into the night. She drove for quite some time, yet she could not remember how long.
She stopped at a late night movie theater.
She reaaaaaally did not want to buy tickets, so she grabbed a beer, and looked for the back entrance, cracking open the door with the help of her baseball bat. She found her way to a random theater, and the whole damn room was almost empty, except for a couple of guys. She saw her ex-boyfriend, Wallace there. She really did not want to bother him, though, because they both mutually agreed not to be catty after the whole thing. The movie sucked though. It ended up being just a bunch of men, who while really fit, did nothing but wrestle in the nude, and scream about their friend of relative Richard. Why would they want him to be given to them? Plus, the movie was really short, only about fourty-five minutes. The last fifteen minutes was nothing but one of the guys being spanked by a wooden paddle. Weird, he looked way too old to be spanked, at least twenty-five. Ech, whatever. Leni finished her beer, chucked the can at some old guy's head, and left back through the front entrance. The bouncer at the front was about to ask her if she was older than eighteen, but Leni was too fast, her wasted ass sprinting to her van, bat still in hand. She jumped inside, and started the engine, driving off again into the night. She soon had driven into a city, and found a discotheque. That looked like fun, and lots of fun! Leni shoved two handfuls of nachos into her moth, and chugged quite a swig from one of her bottles of Glenmorangie, before stumbling out of her van, and trotting towards the club.

Once again, Leni used her bat to enter the club, swinging It round and round her small body, before jumping from the shadows, bringing it into direct contact with the bouncers skull, turning it into goulash. She pranced into the disco, pounding drink after drink with the force of a drunken sailor. Leni was the kind of drunk who got rather violent rather quickly, so it was no surprise that soon, she was kicked out on account of her bat. Her violent tendencies had once more risen to the surface after she had been groped by a large Portuguese drag queen. She ceased her twerking, and rammed her slipper-clad foot so far up his ass that he instantly achieved orgasm. The force of his cum being launched into another man's eye, who happened to be standing right next to him, blinded the innocent bystander, who pulled out a firearm from his jockstrap, shooting the drag queen between his perfectly shaped eyebrows, instantly killing him. A panic broke out, and out of fear, Leni began bludgeoning people left and right, Killing even more prostitutes than Jack The Ripper, as tonight happened to be “Bring ya Hoe, drink half off” night. As things go, where there are bitches, there are pimps, and Leni was soon faced with a large amount of angry, heavily armed, extravagantly dressed, honest businessmen. Due to her massive alcohol intake, however, she managed to achieve an expanded state of mind, allowing her to block every single bullet fired at her with the ancient martial arts technique of “Witupigu Go Homu”. This insane display of physical prowess also caused the pimps to drop their cocks, as well as their glocks. Leni then proceeded to pick up all of the firearms, and before the police could arrive, return to her van, but not before schlepping a keg of Coors Light, and a garden hose, with her.
Having hooked the keg directly to her mouth with the help of the garden hose, her blood alcohol levels kept rising, before she soon, fueled by a drunken rage, stopped in the middle of a town square. Brandishing two pistols, she leaped out of the car, shooting random passerby, before the police came to the scene. She knew what she needed to do. Leni grabbed the Glenmorangie, and chugged the rest of the entire bottle, before ripping off her pajamas. It was a rather warm night after all. There she was, on top of Vanzilla, wearing nothing but her underwear, and fuzzy bunny slippers, skin covered in sweat, booze, and blood, however, not hers. She fired upon the officers, shooting three of them with a single bullet, as it passed through the skulls of the first two. She was then grazed by some buckshot from a fourth officer, but due to her immense blood alcohol level, she had gained the ability to heal almost any wounds, for this Is the power of sweet, sweet liqueur. Her levels kept on rising, at this point it was at a mere 20%. What would happen when she reached 100%? She killed four more officers with her firearms, and then, when more decided to show up, she went on to chug some of her Coors keg. She retrieved her trusty bat from the band, and with her bat in one hand, and a Sig-Sauer in the other, she ran towards the lawmen, with the cry of “AN DEY SHARR NO-NO FEAH”. She was drunk beyond belief after all. Having shot two more down, she raised her bat over her head, and the third officer fell to her almighty teen wrath. She then jumped high into the air, spreading her legs, and landed on a very imposing one's shoulders. He was rather strong, 7 feet tall and built like a brick shithouse. She knew that he must have bulletproof nipples, for she had learned that while watching Fox News. She couldn't kill him in a conventional way, but she had noticed his glaring weakness. His neck was rather thin, and puny. She wrapped her legs around his neck, and with a quick jerk, broke his spine like a wooden chopstick. His comrades cried for “Big Ol' Rick”, and seeing their champion fall, the rest dispersed.
Leni's bloodlust was not yet quenched though, and she returned to her van, ready for more carnage, and more booze.
She drove further into the night, until the stars cleared. She had found a farm, and parked her van in a woods close to it. She decided to rest, but not before imbibing another two swigs of Whiskey, and two cans of beer. Tomorrow, she would raid the settlement.

The morning sun rose high in the sky, a golden sphere tearing apart the darkness like a claymore cutting through a horse. Our blonde heroine was however still drunk, thanks to her innate abilities, and Leni took a large swig from her Coors keg, to keep her buzz going. She took a long, hard, hundred-yard stare at both nothing and the farm. The retrieved her trusty bat, as well as her baseball bat from her van, before placing them back inside. She had a plan. She got in her van. She drove down to the farm, and crashed through the gates. An overweight ogre burst forth from the house, carrying a club, screaming at our darling Leni. She jumped out of her van, rolling through the grass, holding onto her bat. The ogre ran at the girl, who was calm, holding her ground, placing her bat at her hip. She knew that she had one chance to kill the supernatural beast. She swung with all her might, aiming for the abomination's torso. A single strike, and the beast was cut in two, the force of the air pushed aside by her bat creating a vacuum, tearing the ogre in half. Leni then proceeded to bathe in the blood of the beast, covering herself in it. She then washed it off of herself, as to not contract any diseases. She then walked to the barn, to see if what she had anticipated was true. It was, and she sighed in relief. Twas a giant robot, much alike those to be seen in many an oriental sexual harassment comic. She looked at it closely.
While the mechanical behemoth was designed in a European fashion, almost like some sort of a perversion of a knight. However, noble it was not. It was painted blood-red, with spikes, edges and jagged surfaces spread throughout it, even with effigies of human body parts on it. There were scriptures inscribed on the armor panels. “Blood for the Blood God”. “Skulls for the Skull throne”. Many other heretical litanies were scattered about it's unholy frame. Leni, however, did not care. All that she heeded was that it had both a gargantuan katana in it's massive, right fist, and a giant, possibly plasma-based, cannon in it's left. She went back to her van, and loaded it's entire contents into the cockpit of the robot, which was easily accessible due to a conveniently placed cherry picker. She then raided the farmhouse, which outside of a dead, sodomized, blue, rainbow-maned Pegasus, was uninhabited. She retrieved quite a lot of canned goods, drinks, and three kegs of fine, fine, Georgia pinecone hooch. She then loaded the cockpit even fuller, before climbing inside. Due to her massive alcohol intake, she once again had performed a miracle, and could pilot the mech like a natural talent, like a new type of person. Tee hee. She was ready now, ready for her revenge. She was going to march on the eternal city of Rome, and further then to the Vatican City. She wanted that Papal boipussy, and she was going to get it. She marched eastward, crushing all who crossed her path, reducing the great city of Detroit to an even larger pile of shit than it had even been before, and crushed even the ginormous Navy Seal combat Demon that had been summoned specifically to stop her. However, it was no match for her quick-draw katana skills. She then flew on the wind to Philadelphia, where she consumed three metric tonnes of cheese steaks. It was then the moment when she did not know how she could cross the Atlantic. So she sat down, and thought, before coming to a conclusion after a liter of hooch. She would strap airplanes to the arms and legs of her mech, and thus fly. It was basic science.  Could she do it? Could she break the laws of physics due to her intoxication, now reaching 45% of her blood composition? Hell, she had already developed magical powers, was this truly beyond Leni, the goddess of glorble? She did as she had planned, and was successful in her endeavor, soon taking off like a giant, flying fortress, one step closer to her epic trek to go to Europe, and give the pope the pipe.

Leni had already taken flight, her mechanical flying fortress of formidable fright causing any man, woman and child who saw her to immediately defecate their trousers in shock and awe. She had ascended to a goddess of machine and spirits, her veins intertwining with the very cables of the iron giant she was piloting, fusing her very consciousness to the demonic engine in the belly of the technical, unholy marvel. However, dearest reader, her travels over the wide blue desert of the Atlantic Ocean were no uneventful ones, and this tale, this sub-story in her epic, I shall tell you starting with the next sentence. About an hour after Leni had become airborne, she was greeted by the U.S. Coastguard, who were aware of the danger her cybernetic radiance displayed to the international political landscape. They had sent their sleeping giant, a demon of equal greatness, but of even greater destructive power, Chaplain Martin Shkreli.  Martin Shkreli was released from Prison just for this occasion, and given control of the Holy Unitus Imperialis Yankeeus, short HUEY, a beast of a spindly mechsuit, slightly taller but much skinnier than Leni's. It was armed with needle-launchers, as well as a giant bull-whip. It could also fly without needing to attach auxiliary Boeing 747s, an advantage to Leni's robot. Martin took flight after receiving prayers and litanies from the licensed Nation of Islam practitioners assigned to the protection and maintenance of HUEY. His holy gleam penetrated the heavens, and as he jumped from the aircraft carrier, it was as if the Lord himself had ejaculated on the metal contraption. Shkreli flew to the same height as Leni, and not before long, they engaged in hand to hand combat. Martin struck at Leni with his bullwhip, shaking the ship, and slicing off a chunk of her armor. Leni knew to not underestimate the Pharma Bro, but she knew that she could beat him. She chugged the last of her Glenmorangie, increasing her blood alcohol level to a legendary 50%. She could now see through matter, focusing on which she pleased. The next time Martin, blessed be his name, struck at our heroine with his holy whip of judgment, she swung her massive 50-times folded steel grorious nihon Katana at the right time, at a speed that exceeded sound. The crack of her breaking through the sound barrier was enough to slice his whip into ribbons, leaving him defenseless other than his two needle-launchers. He knew what to do, and fired them with great passion, praying to the almighty Hamburgler that his aim may be true. Two needles hit their mark, stabbing Leni in the left arm of her mechsuit, the other tearing off the armor panel of her right knee. She knew that she had to get serious. Martin knew the same. Martin had prepared his technique, a legendary eye-beam which let him gaze upon all thots and smite them, known only in hushed tones as “Buraku Coku Bastu Beamu”. But, Leni was also prepared with an ancient technique of her own, amplified by her mechsuit's unholy space power. She charged her Plasma cannon, trailing her Katana over the exhaust smoke which extruded from it, imbuing her blade with highly radioactive and highly swaggaliscious plasma emissions. Once this was done, she raised her sword above her head, the tip of the blade lined up with the sun from the perspective of Martin and his righteous armor of Yakub. While she did not know it, her strike was much like the ancient technique of the Mexican Samurai Hernando Hernandez, going by the name of “Ekusutura Hetero Mimu Waevu”. Martin struck first, his holy eye lasers shooting directly at Lenis cockpit. Every millisecond felt like an hour, but, alas, his shot was not true. Leni blocked the beam with her Katana, retaliating with a wave of solar plasma, bursting forth from her sword with the force and rage of a thousand suns and a million dead warriors. This blue wave of compressed galactic energy clove Shkreli's mech in twain. However, Martin himself was not dead, only having lost his left leg. He fell to the water, but was caught in the last moment by sexually unsatisfied mermaids. As he was held in their arms, he cried revenge at the blonde teenager, and declared that he would defeat her soon. With another victory under her belt, and the coast guard having fled, she continued her flight towards Europe. Her determination had only grown, and kept going on, for hours on end, before spotting a tiny island in the sea, which had nothing on it beyond an Amazon Prime box. She landed on the island, and lifted the box to the cockpit, about to open it up.